Holding Silence
by Roriette
Summary: 10 years ago, orphan Ryoma was taken in and adopted by grand slam tennis pro Tezuka Kunimitsu. 10 years later, Ryoma is fifteen years old, and he realizes that he's inexplicably in love with his adoptive father. With no way out, no way back, and no future, how long can he keep up the facade of a trophy son before he breaks? [Pillar Pair; Tez.Ryo]
1. Introducing

Holding Silence

* * *

**Summary:** 10 years ago, orphan Ryoma was taken in and adopted by grand slam tennis pro Tezuka Kunimitsu. 10 years later, Ryoma is fifteen years old, and he realizes that he's inexplicably in love with his adoptive father. With no way out, no way back, and no future, how long can he keep up the facade of a trophy son before he breaks?

**Warning:** Non-explicit adult themes (for now), age gap, sexiness ( C;)

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Chapter I

* * *

Ryoma tread downstairs and stepped into the living room, seeing a familiar scene; his foster father was sitting on the brown leather sofa with a newspaper spread in front of his face. He was absorbed in the grey paper, and Ryoma almost didn't want to call attention to himself.

But he always did, in the end. He was a brat, he was selfish, and a small part of him craved that innocent, platonic affection. "Kuni-san," he said softly. He didn't want to disturb his foster parent, but he always did.

"Hm?" A languid page flip, languid attention, crossing of legs, brown eyes downcast, reading.

"I'm going to take a bath," he announced, touching the bath towel wrapped around his neck briefly.

Tezuka Kunimitsu, his adoptive father, nodded behind the newspaper. Ryoma's cat-like eyes flickered to the back cover, which displayed a photo of the current finals winner of the French Open, the caption underneath in bold print: "Hard Court Champion Atobe Keigo bringing home his third French Open trophy."

His gaze lingered on the photo of the brazen, arrogant champion for a few seconds before he turned around and headed upstairs for the bathroom, wordlessly. He entered the pristine, teal tiled bathroom and stripped himself, throwing his sweat-soaked black tee, tennis shorts, and tennis ball boxers in the clothes basket. Then, he climbed into the heated bath water.

Soap bubbles fizzled and floated past his face, the hot water caressing his exhausted body. He watched the bubbles sway in the foggy bathroom, thoughts on the tennis grand slams eventually making their way to forbidden territory – his young, adoptive father.

He frowned slightly, and then he closed his eyes, clearing his head. He leaned back into the bathtub and steadily dozed off in the warm waters, consequently neglecting the sound of the twisting doorknob as an intruder stepped in.

* * *

He blinked slowly, sleep heavily weighing down his tired eyelids. He had a feeling he had overextended his lounge in the bath. Everything was hazy, coupled with the fog and the heat in the vicinity. He yawned slowly, stretching his body.

Suddenly, he felt long, muscled legs touch his own, shorter limbs, and he quickly woke up, all traces of sleep vanishing. Across from him, on the other end of the cramped bathtub, was his father, seemingly unperturbed by this situation. He was reading a tennis monthly newspaper, his oval glasses fogged by the steam from the hot water.

Ryoma yelped, retracting his legs, where they were intimately brushing against the older man's, and a healthy blush traveled from his face all the way down to his feet, bright like a ripe tomato. "W-w-why are you in here!" he said uncharacteristically loudly and anxiously, voice wavering.

Tezuka barely glanced at him, glasses glinting sharply. "Ryoma, I believe we haven't bonded as father and son in the bath for a long time, and that's why - "

"Don't do that so suddenly!" Ryoma shouted, and he stood up abruptly, grabbing the bath towel off the hanger and wrapping it quickly around himself. He was blushing furiously. "For the record, don't do it ever again, because I'm fifteen already!" He ran out of there, slammed the door shut, and went to his room.

_Bam!_

Alone in the bathtub, Tezuka stared at the abused door blankly, glasses still fogged.

"..."

He was a little hurt. Ryoma never had a problem bathing together before. In fact, he loved bath time with Tezuka, where he got to play with squeaking ducks and rubber tennis balls in the water.

Now that he thought about it, the last time they bathed together was four years ago, and then Ryoma turned twelve, and that was when he started refusing bath time with Tezuka.

The grand slam tennis player quietly returned to the newspaper, at a loss due to his son's bath time rejection.

* * *

Ryoma collapsed on his bed, pressing his face into his pillow, heart racing madly.

"_Stop it_," he whispered. _I don't want this_.

His pulse kept beating, rapidly, fluctuating unsteadily.

He remembered the feel of his muscular legs, hard and compact, against his own.

He flushed. Eyes screwed shut. He shook his head.

_I don't want this._

His pruney fingers slipped underneath the white bath towel, feeling his own heated, aroused skin.

"K-Kuni-san..."

_I have to stop_.

"Ah...ah..." he muffled himself with the pillow, sweat and bath water trickling down his red face.

A small noise, another creature in the room, he heard it, but he didn't – couldn't stop.

"Mmf...agh..."

He was almost –

"_Meow_!"

A furry weight landed on his back, and he jumped, his excitement evaporated. He sat up on the bed, face and body flushed from his earlier activity. A brown face with wide blue eyes stared up at him, furry tail flipping left and right slowly. The Himalayan cat settled on his lap, and Ryoma's gaze softened.

"Karupin, you..." he muttered with a small pout, petting the cat's soft head.

The feline leaned into his touch, purring with satisfaction.

Cute, cute, little devil.

Ryoma sighed, lying down on his back and holding Karupin in his arms.

How long could he keep this up?

Will this phase ever go away?

What if...

What if he found out...?

What would he do then?

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**Rori's Corner:** I don't know why. Age gaps are the best.


	2. Get Lucky

**Rori's Corner:** Thanks for all the reviews, faves, and alerts, everyone! _*blows kiss*_ The rest of the chapters should hopefully answer all of your questions. And OMG, I love Royal Pair too! It used to be my OTP, but now I'm like wavering between Pillar and Royal! Hehe. Oh and I made Tezuka a little silly, but I think he should be, because he did adopt Ryoma at a (spoileralert keke) rather young age. Sort of. Anyway!

This chap is a lot longer than the previous. This is also the first time, ever, for me updating this fast. Here's to hoping you guys'll enjoy it just as much _*wink__* _My chapter titles are all song references by the way! It's the song I listen to when I write this chapter. This time it's Daft Punk's "_Get Lucky_."

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Holding Silence

Chapter 2: _Get Lucky_

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_Honk. Honk._

Ryoma was tying his sneaker laces when loud and obnoxious car horns sounded in front of his house. He glanced over at the public menace, a blue lifted Jeep, from under his signature white cap and saw a familiar blonde with blue shades in the driver's seat. He was nodding his head to the beat of ultra bass boosted rap music, fingers rhythmically tapping on the leather steering wheel.

_Honk. Honk. Honk._

Ryoma's nerve twitched. He tipped his cap lower, hiding his face, and then he walked behind the Jeep, almost casually sneaking past the car. He nearly made it out of the automobile's hindsight, when someone stopped him from going further.

"_Yo_, Ryoma," the guy said.

He looked up and saw Billy Cassidy, who grinned down at him.

"Yo," he replied.

"Where ya going?" the tall, brown-haired tennis player from the south western states asked.

"Courts," Ryoma answered curtly and walked around the older teen.

"Wait, weren't you supposed to meet up with Ke – "

_Honk!_

"Oi, Ryoma, what the hell!" a loud, exasperated yell came from the blue Jeep wrangler, which was backing up the road. The owner of the car rolled down his driver's window and made a rude gesture with his middle finger at the two teens on on the roadside. "Ryoma, you bastard, you knew I was waiting for your ass!" he shouted.

Ryoma sighed, holding his cap down. He took a step forward, continuing on to the courts.

"Billy, grab him!"

"What?"

"Now, idiot!"

"R-roger! Sorry, Ryoma, but it looks like you're coming with us whether you want to or not."

Ryoma was making his way to the stoplights, when he was suddenly hoisted into the air and tossed into the backseat of a car in one fluid motion and in one miniscule second. He groaned in pain; his head had hit the backseat during the ordeal. Something landed in his lap as the car door banged shut. His tennis racquet.

"This is kidnapping," he muttered, disgruntled. His head was pounding.

"Sorry 'bout that," Billy said, grinning apologetically. "But Kevin won't take no for an answer. None of us have a choice here."

"That's what you get," Kevin said, smirking with satisfaction. He turned around in the driver's seat and waved at a somewhat disoriented Ryoma. "Yo."

"Where we going?" Ryoma asked, looking out the window. "And do you even have a license?"

Kevin laughed. "The age requirement in NY is sixteen."

"I'm getting out of here."

"Billy!"

"On it."

"What the hell – " Ryoma rasped, struggling as the large cowboy got him in a headlock. His head was caught under Billy's muscular arm, and he was forced to let go of the car handle. "Ow!"

"Sorry, but I gotta hold you down or Kevin's gonna throw a fit later," Billy said breathlessly, chuckling. "Stay still and just go with the flow. It'll be easier on both of us."

"All right, just get – " Ryoma choked, and Billy quickly him go. He gulped in a big breath, and then grimaced painfully.

"Whoops, I used too much strength. You okay, Ryoma?" Billy apologized, reaching out to help the young teen breathe.

Ryoma intercepted his hand with his own, eyes shut tightly. "I just have a neck cramp."

"Oh. Shit, sorry! You hanging there?"

"It's fine."

"Oi, that's why you don't ignore your friend when he's waiting for you," Kevin remarked from the front.

"Shut up."

"Pft."

"Where the hell are we going, anyway?"

"You'll see when we get there," Kevin said with a proud smile. "Besides, you promised me last week that you'd hang with me. Then you fucking overslept, tried to run, and I had to make new plans. Bastard."

Ryoma nursed the cramp between his neck and shoulder, wincing as he pulled another muscle. "When did I promise that?"

"What the hell? You don't remember?" Kevin gasped, turning around to glare at his Japanese friend, just as the stoplight changed from red to green. "You said you'd do it after you lost the bet last week – "

_Beep!_

"Watch the road!" Billy and Ryoma shouted simultaneously.

Kevin turned back around quickly, a stormy cloud brewing darkly over his head. "Don't tell me what to do! Especially you, oversleeping kid with senioritis!"

"I don't have senioritis – " Ryoma defended himself with a mutter, just as a loud, chirpy ringtone rang loudly in the car.

"_Listen boy..."_

"Whose phone is it?" Billy asked, checking his mobile.

"I 'unno," Ryoma mumbled disinterestedly.

"_My first love story! My angel...and my girls."_

"Kevin, it's yours."

"No, it's not," the blonde snapped, attention focused on the road. "Oi, move it, freakin' geezer!" he shouted at a rusty automobile with broken rear lights in front of him.

_Buzz. Buzz._

"_My sunshine! Uh, uh, let's go!"_

Ryoma felt the a familiar vibration in his pants pocket, and he looked down at it curiously.

"_...Sumeul mot swigesseo tteollineun girl_

_Gee gee gee gee baby baby,_

_Gee gee gee gee baby baby."_

"By any chance, is that...yours?" Billy said slowly. He was also staring at his buzzing pocket.

Ryoma reached into his pocket and withdrew the vibrating smartphone, along with the embarrassingly girly ringtone.

Kevin glanced at the rear view mirror, registered the scene, and proceeded to cackle a very, very obnoxious (not to mention extremely loud) laugh. Billy couldn't hold back and joined in, face red with laughter.

Ryoma pursed his lips, swiftly jamming the green answer button and shutting the ridiculous ringtone. Between the split-second hold in which the call was connected, he shot an ominous glare at his American friend, who laughed even harder, wheezing.

"Hello?" he said tersely, without looking at the contact information, still decidedly miffed about the situation.

"_Ryoma_," a deep baritone graced his ear, and a shiver ran through his body.

Large golden eyes widened slightly, fingers clenching the leather car seat, head lowered under the white cap – Ryoma held in a breath for a few countless seconds. Warmth spreading ear to ear causing him to hide himself.

"...Yes."

Billy looked at him with curiosity, raising his brows as if to silently ask who was on the other line.

Ryoma made a perpendicular angle with his index and thumb, hand sign reading a roughly shaped "T" for Tezuka.

Billy's mouth formed an O in response.

"_Where are you?"_

He could hear the restless tone and could imagine him with his crossed arms and stern expression. "I'm in a car with Kevin and Billy," he answered.

"_Come back to the house this instant."_

He blinked.

"_We have to catch the four pm flight to Japan. Right now."_

He blinked again. He could feel Billy's and Kevin's pressing stares and desires to know what the call was about, and so he said, without thinking, "I have to go to Japan right now."

"WHAT!"

_Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerve!_

* * *

Half an hour later, after running the Jeep straight into the sidewalk and a stop sign and miraculously escaping the scene with only grazed wheels, they arrived in front of the Tezuka household, where a tall and menacing figure stood, arms crossed and expression subzero degrees. Oval glasses glinted in the afternoon sun, a cold aura enveloping his form wrapping the entire driveway in a chilly atmosphere, in spite of the hot 89 degrees summer.

Kevin turned around in the driver's seat after forcing on a twitchy smile in greeting, meeting Tezuka Kunimitsu's unsmiling face. The blonde shuddered, looking downright scared. "Dude, how do you deal with that guy everyday? I'm getting the chills even with a car separating me from him."

Billy chuckled nervously. "How do you feel about driving without a license now?"

"I feel ashamed, and I don't even know why," Kevin said, his voice wavering with apprehension.

"I'm getting out. Bye." Ryoma tipped his cap lower and then opened the car door.

"Good luck. Don't die," said Kevin.

"Careful," Billy supplied.

They waved goodbye, and Ryoma got out.

He walked over to his father, the latter's intimidating presence freezing the air with coated ice.

Tezuka looked down at him, arms crossed, face unreadable. Two words left his mouth: "You're late."

"Sorry," Ryoma mumbled.

"Start packing and let's go."

"Uisu."

* * *

In the newly blemished Jeep, Kevin and Billy shared a look.

"Mr. Tezuka is damn scary," commented the cowboy.

"Damn right," Kevin confirmed. "I'll just text Ryoma and then we'll back out inconspicuously."

"Good idea."

_Bzz._

Ryoma glanced at his black touchphone, which had alerted him to a text message, as he was packing for the overnight trip. He thumbed the message open, reading the text from Kevin, and then a small scowl settled over his lips.

"Bastard."

He threw the phone on the bed and went back to packing without sending a reply.

1:38 PM

Kevin Smith

"_I was gonna show u my new hentai collection that i ordered from jap but nvm HAHA btw ur dad scary as fuk"_

"_See ya & tell Mr Atobe gratz from me. Dont get ass whoop 2 badly okay? LULULS"_

* * *

The car ride to the airport was mostly silent. Ryoma slumped in the passenger seat, attempting to find a good position to take a nap. Darkness surrounded them as the car passed through a tunnel, yellow lights guiding them to the exit. A comfortable silence fell over the two.

Ryoma looked from under his cap, watching Tezuka's long, slender, and very calloused hands manipulate the steering wheel. The slow, rhythmic actions were entrancing, and he leaned his head to the left, on the edge of his seat. The driving motion was lulling him to sleep. He had almost fallen into slumber, when he suddenly realized he was going to fly to Japan in just under two hours.

He woke up, stretching his legs.

Tezuka noticed, and he looked over. "You will be able to sleep more during the plane ride."

"Mm." He yawned and turned over on his side, trying to get comfortable again. He couldn't find sleep, however.

A few moments later, he finally decided to ask, "Why are we going to Japan?"

"..."

"..."

"I thought I told you already."

"I don't remember."

"A letter came in the mailbox this morning. It was the invitation to Atobe's party in celebration for his third French Open trophy."

"Huh..."

"We had an opportunity to reject the invitation. The decision's deadline was by nine A.M. I told you about it this morning."

Ryoma frowned. When did this happen?

"I also mentioned that I left the invitation on your desk. Since you didn't acknowledge or deny the invitation by nine, I assumed you accepted." Tezuka saw his confused expression and sighed, index and thumb kneading his forehead where a headache was coming about. "You forgot."

Then again...something like that could have happened. Oh wait...he remembered now. It was around six AM when he was woken up by a familiar, deep, resonating voice that talked to him about some party or whatever. He had ended up going straight back to sleep as soon as the door closed shut. It was no wonder he forgot about the whole ordeal. He wasn't a morning person.

"Oh yeah, something like that could have happened," Ryoma remarked, crossing his arms behind his head.

Tezuka chose not to comment.

* * *

**15 Hours Later**

"Ryoma."

"Ryoma."

"Un...go away..."

Tezuka sighed.

Yet, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Excuse me, Mr. Tezuka, sir, would you like the luggage to be brought to your hotel room?" one of the Narita airport servicemen asked him.

"Yes, please. Thank you," he replied. It was certainly generous of Atobe to accommodate his priority guests to this degree. He would have to thank the man personally at the party.

For now, he had one problem at hand he needed to take care of. He looked down at the small, dozing boy in the airplane window seat. Ryoma's mouth was parted slightly, cap tilted over his dark, emerald highlighted hair, on the verge of falling off. Tezuka quietly took hold of the teen, picking him up out of the seat in piggyback style, wrapping the boy's limp arms around his neck as he supported his legs. He carried them both out of the plane, strongly reminded of the days where this was a daily scenario, his picking up a sleeping Ryoma and then piggybacking him home.

"Mm...Karupin..."

Tezuka couldn't hold back a smile at that.

He felt Ryoma's head thump on his shoulder, soft nestle of dark hair tickling his ear.

"Karupin...don't eat that...you'll...sick..."

A private black Escalade was awaiting them outside of the airport. The chauffeur held the door open for them, and Tezuka climbed into the luxurious backseat with Ryoma latched onto his back. He pulled the teen next to him on the seat, and the latter leaned on him, sleep undisturbed.

He took hold of Ryoma's white cap and put it down on the side. The boy's black hair was tousled, and he reached over, smoothing the windswept locks. Ryoma's face twitched, but he was otherwise deep in slumber, dreaming about the playful Himalayan cat that was left in a New York City pet daycare. He leaned on Tezuka, using his shoulder as his pillow.

The ride to the hotel was short, about five minutes max. Tezuka carried his son into the elevator after obtaining the room keys, and a few minutes later, he had gotten them into the designated vicinity, a large suite with affluent interior design, furniture, and amenities. He headed to the bedroom and realized that Atobe and his invitation team had somehow messed up and ordered a singular king-sized bed instead of a double bed.

He sighed.

He was jet lagged and tired. The bed was too abnormally large for one person, anyway. It would have to do.

* * *

Ryoma could tell he had a very, very nice, long nap. It was one of those rare naps that knocked him out for a good twelve hours plus. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept so long and woken up feeling so refreshed. He yawned, mouth wide and arms stretching.

He noticed that he was in a hotel suite, and he shielded his eyes from the glaring sunlight filtering through the slit in the maroon curtains. He yawned again, tempted to go back to sleep.

Then, he looked down, and blinked once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Brain coming to life.

His usually poker-faced and stern father was sleeping, facing him, _in the same bed_.

His stomach was feeling butterflies, and heat was quickly spreading all over his body.

"W-what..."

What should he do?

He should leave. He really should.

No, he had to.

This was bad. _Really_ bad.

He shook his head quickly, waking himself up before his _other_ thoughts came in.

He slowly moved, trying to stifle any noises that would wake up the sleeping man.

_But I really want to stay and sleep..._

No!

He needed to get out of there before –

A strong grip grabbed his arm, and he looked back.

His father had one eye open, his face looking worn out and tired. "It's too early. Come back to bed," he said, voice low, hoarse, raspy, and husky in the barely-woken-up kind of way.

Ryoma nodded sluggishly.

Tezuka let go of his arm, and Ryoma burrowed himself back into the warm blanket and body heat. The older man went back to sleep, and Ryoma snuggled closer, the familiar musky scent of his father filling his senses.

A small, satisfied smile curled over his lips, and he hid his face under the blanket, feeling warm and tingly all over.

His father's morning voice was, how to put it -

_Sexy_.

* * *

**Rori's Corner:** There's just something about guys and their morning voices. Anh, minna-san?


End file.
